


Stand and Deliver

by Chocolatepot



Category: Original Work
Genre: Disguise, Flirting, Highway robbery, Historical, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 03:04:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17675234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocolatepot/pseuds/Chocolatepot
Summary: A dark night. A dashing highwayman. And a viscount?





	Stand and Deliver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nisiedraws](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nisiedraws/gifts).



The night was moonless, the stars winking points of light undimmed by any rival; the coachman could barely make out the road in front of the horses by their lanterns, and had to trust that the beasts would not head off into the trees of their own accord.

“Stand and deliver!” The command was heard before the speaker was seen, and the coachman had to rush the horses to a halt in order to stop before crashing into him. As they stamped, confused and irritated, the cocking of a pistol could be heard in the darkness. The inhabitant of the carriage, jolted awake, shook his head to clear it and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Stand, as I said, and deliver.” A second pistol was cocked. Plainly, this highwayman had a fine flair for the dramatic. Before anything could turn violent, the man in the carriage opened the door and stepped out, saying, “There – you see, I am standing.”

In the lantern-light, he could not see well; squinting, his eyes became used to the dim glow, and he was able to make out a tall, lean form – taller than himself, which was impressive. The highwayman stepped closer, both pistols at the ready, and his face could be made out: a face which did him credit, with a strong jawline, angled brows, and the satisfied smile of a man who felt he had the whole situation in hand.

“I can see from the crest on your door that you’re just a viscount, so I shan’t expect much from you,” he said, and looked the nobleman’s person up and down. There was much less to see; though he had a certain height, he was physically rather ordinary, with a perpetual expression of mild amusement. Coming even closer, the highwayman loomed slightly in order to force him to look up, and tucked one of his pistols into his belt. He held out a gloved hand, the leather fitting smoothly over it – very fine work.

“I wonder from whom you’ve stolen those gloves.”

“Do you like them?” he asked carelessly, holding up the hand with the pistol and turning it about. The other hand reached out, and the highwayman brushed his cheek with the back of his fingers. “Softest kidskin, very fine work. Perhaps you can buy yourself a pair if you save your pennies. Now, your money or your life, as you choose it.”

“I’m afraid that I have neglected my purse this evening, sir. Is there something else I can give you?” It was perhaps silly of him, but he let a slight pause linger in the air between enough of the words to make an innuendo clear. In case it wasn’t, he caught his lip between his teeth.

“You little minx.” The highwayman smiled, more on one side of his mouth than the other. “Then I will be satisfied with your watch, or your ring. I’ve no time to dally; if you can’t fill my pockets, then I shall have to find richer pickings. Though I wouldn’t object to finding you again some other time, when I’m at my leisure.”

“Of course.” The nobleman pulled off his own gloves to reveal his one ring, made of gold and studded with a single stone. “I realize,” he said, holding it just a few inches away from his face so that the highwayman would have to reach for it, “that your goal is to sell trinkets like these, but if you were to use it to identify yourself, we might meet again.” As though he would need a ring to recognize this man. Without breaking his gaze, the highwayman took it, his hand briefly squeezing the nobleman’s. “Now, I must be back on my way, unless you have anything else to ask of me.”

The highwayman laughed. “No – do you have anything to ask of me?”

“I would advise you to take care in where you set a cocked pistol so that you don’t lose anything valuable,” he said, stepping up into his carriage again. “Choose a half-cock, at least.” The highwayman neither nodded nor came back with his own retort, but shut the door behind him with a lingering look.

Settling himself on the seat, the nobleman knocked on the roof to let the poor driver know to go on again. He leaned a little way out of the window as the carriage hitched into movement. “We have been very pleased with this meeting,” he said, and was also pleased to see the highwayman’s brows come together in consternation. “We _certainly_ hope to see you again.” Then he drew back into the gloom inside, smiling to himself. He would have to make sure that the reward on bandits’ heads were higher if they were brought in alive, to make sure that this one was able to speak on the occasion.

**Author's Note:**

> I love the Original Work prompts! There are too many to write them all, sadly, but I just started working on this one and could see the characters so clearly. Adorbs.


End file.
